Day
by DJRabidPunk
Summary: The worst days of life aboard a starship, told from the views of a female Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, and Spock.
1. Kirk

In all of the approximately 11963 hours of her life, the last five hours of James T. Kirk's life have been the most hellish.

That's probably why she's clutching Nurse Chapel to her, heaving with sobs and getting snot all over the blonde woman's crisp uniform and not caring. Why Spock is standing there and just _staring_ as her Captain's persona cracks and bleeds her heart all over the floor. Captain Kirk has no heart, she's made well and sure of that. She makes difficult decisions and stands tall, as confident and sure as any man with twice her experience.

But Jamie Kirk is a backwater hick with a façade, who's secretly kind of an emotional mop and has a soft spot for cute kids, puppies and kitties. And she loves her crew, and her ship, with all of the love that she didn't get growing up.

Which is why, when five of her ensigns, who she trusted with her life and loved like family, who she took special care to make sure they weren't afraid, just go and _give up their life for her_, she has the total right to be emotionally compromised. She's just thankful that no one has actually said those words, because there's enough bad juju in those words that she will punch someone in the face if they utter those words. She will be taken off duty for a while, but she will get the hell over it.

The situation on Gamma Melgion II started out simple. They were to beam down to the planet, take a few readings, and beam back up. Simple, precise, easy. There were natives, sure, but they were only like, two feet tall. What the preliminary scans failed to mention was that while they were only two feet tall, the natives absorbed massive amounts of carbon from the soil and atmosphere, which they used to reinforce their bones and subsequently make them about the strongest things ever.

Coupled with a primitive-level intelligence, if you wandered into Melgion territory, you were going to get a beat down. Jim, statistical anomaly that she is, just happened to wander across a hunting party of the little yellow bastards, and they kind of hurled a rock at her head and nearly caved her skull in.

When Jim woke up from the resulting concussion, she was tied to a stake and there were tons of little toad-eyed, four-armed yellow cretins dancing around her, mumbling in their little mumbly language. And Jim had none of her equipment, so busting out of her bonds and kicking some ass was out of the question.

Then they started licking their teeth and clicking rocks at the base of wood at Jim's feet. And it wasn't until the first sparks caught that Jim realized they were to cook her alive and _eat her_. Luckily, her landing party showed up just in the nick of time, and someone doused her with water before she could be _burned at the stake_. Haha.

Her mind was clearing up when her crew, as awesome as they were, got captured. Ensign Marley had gotten killed in the tussle, her body a tumbled pile of limbs and blood that oozed from the sharp rock piercing her chest. The hit had killed her in seven seconds, and Jim had watched every one with painstaking diligence. It was her duty, as Captain, to mentally record the woman's pain, her last breath as it left her body. It would only serve Jim in later years, to remember Marley's death and make sure that others under her command didn't die.

That didn't make it any less painful.

Ensigns Hanish, R'Nal, Degil and Gephart were lined up on their knees, hands tied behind their backs. Their skin was already turning red and flaky from the radiation poisoning (they were only cleared for an hour, at most, and it's been at least three), but their expressions were fierce and unafraid. Jim felt a surge of pride through the guilt- she'd been training all the ensigns personally for landing party experience, and these five had been the best so far. It was their very first time going onto the surface of an alien planet, and it would be their last.

The leader of the Melgions, a squat but ridiculously muscled little guy, waddled up to the ensigns and spoke in surprisingly good Standard,

"You fight well for Tall People. Other Tall People come; not so good at fight. Give up with little hurts. You fight with honor. In respect, we will bargain." The other Melgions whoop, and Jim gives a sigh of relief. If, at the very least, she can negotiate the terms of the ensign's release, they can get back to the ship and tell the others what happened.

"I'm James T. Kirk, Captain of the-" Muscle-man whirls on her, the nostrils on the top of his head flaring as he waves his little fists. Jim resists the urge to snort.

"Tall women no speak! Only men speak!" He turns his back on her again and looks Ensign Gephart as well in the eye as he can, being about a foot and a half too short to actually look into his eyes. Ensign Gephart is a clever man, and he says in his deep, calming voice,

"The Tall woman is our leader. We will give ourselves over to you in exchange for her release." Okay, maybe he's not so clever. Jim tries to speak up again, but Muscles is starting to get bitchy. She eases up, but glares at Gephart. He smiles his slow, wide smile.

"Don't worry about it, Jimma. We knew what we were signing ourselves up for." Jim swallows uneasily but doesn't speak. Ensigns R'Nal and Hanish, who have been one of the rumor mills hottest commodities with their on-again off-again relationship, scoot closer together and quietly exchange words, and Hanish gives his lover a kiss on the forehead before they part, R'Nal's three violet eyes shiny with tears. Jim starts hyper-ventilating, because it's finally starting to set in. The transporter they've been waiting for is not going to come back online in time. These five ensigns will all have died for her by the time the day is up.

"Guys, you're so fucking stupid. I'm writing you up for insubordination when we get back, you hear me?" Degil laughs, shaking his head, and trades elbow jabs with Gephart. How can they be so fucking calm, when the Melgions are slowly working up a chant, and they're closing in with sharp bone knives and heavy rocks?

"You do what you gotta do, Jimma. But I gotta ask that you say goodbye to mah little girl for me, okay? She'll never forgive me if I don't pass that along, at least." And Jim chokes up, and then the Melgions spring on the four ensigns. She watches each death and does not cry, but saves each hyper-tense detail. It will serve her later, she tells herself.

They release Jim a few minutes later, leaving her to wander away across the hilly landscape, slowly burning out from radiation poisoning. It wasn't until McCoy activated the tracking chip he'd covertly installed her last physical that they found her, passed out under a tree with her skin nearly melting off and carrion birds about to rip out her eyes.

After three hours of hydration, dermal regeneration and intense medical foil, most of the physical damage was erased, leaving new, shiny pink skin in it's wake. Jim had muscled her way back into shift rotation, if only because if she sat in sickbay with Bones long enough she would crack, and she wasn't ready for that.

She was on shift for forty minutes before Uhura finally called her on her behavior. She'd been short with the bridge crew before, but always apologized for it. Now she wasn't letting anything slide- the ensigns had gotten caught because of carelessness, surely.

It's when she asks Uhura for the third time to check all frequencies that the lieutenant snaps,

"Captain, I've already checked all frequencies. Nothing new is expected to come in, and I've got the alert system on for any incoming hails. I really doubt some crisis is going to just pop up out of nowhere." Jim snorts, shooting back,

"Well, obviously you haven't been on this ship long enough to know that's not the case. And you would also know that questioning my orders _is something I do not tolerate_. Scan all frequencies again, Lieutenant Uhura." Her voice goes cold and hard, and Spock suddenly pipes up,

"Captain, perhaps you require-"

"If I wanted your opinion, Mr. Spock, I would have asked for it. Please return your attention to your post." Even if Spock acquiesces reluctantly, Uhura makes a disdainful noise and pulls her earpiece out, slapping it down on the console. Everyone is looking now, and Jim stands up with a sharp motion, sweeping her cold gaze across the crew.

"What the hell are you all looking at? Get back to your posts!" Everyone is still for a second before they scramble to do as told. It's Spock who rebels this time, standing up and taking a hold of her shoulders in an uncommon and totally surprising gesture. His dark eyes are too piercing, too knowing. She feels transparent, his too-hot hands seeping warmth through her uniform

"Captain, you are bleeding." Jim blinks, finally noticing the warmth beading on her upper lip. She swipes a hand under her nose, the skin coming away red.

"Huh?" And then, the pain that's she's been steadily ignoring springs forward. Oh, right, concussion. She swoons suddenly, and Spock is right there, catching her with his firm grip. Uhura is suddenly comming sickbay, and Jim struggles to shake it off.

"No, seriously, I'm fine. It's just a concussion." Jim distantly hears Bones' reply of "Just a concussion? Goddamn you, Jim Kirk, you stupid son of a bitch!"

Then Spock slings her arm over his shoulder and gently guides her towards the turbo lift, but Jim isn't quite done talking yet.

"You know, Spock, you're like the best First ever. You never let me get too out of control." Spock carefully settles her against the turbo lift wall, and she closes her eyes. Why is she so tired all of a sudden? It's like the more she thinks about closing her eyes, the more tired she gets. Suddenly Spock taps her on the face.

"Please refrain from losing consciousness, Captain. And I must disagree with you; you seem to find many opportunities to prove that I cannot control you. One would almost say that you take pleasure out of proving me wrong." Jim just smirks, bringing one hand up to slap Spock on the shoulder but lacking the force. Instead her hand just sort of falls down the line of his body, which is a little sexy.

"Why Commander, you big tease. I almost think you're flirting with me. Damn sexy Vulcans." Spock raises an eyebrow, and Jim giggles a little boozily.

"Whoops. I didn't mean to say that out loud. Oh, I feel woozy." Jim allows herself to slide to the floor, only for one of Spock's arms to circle her waist and lift her up again. She whines the whole way to sickbay, cheerily swearing at all the passersby. They all laugh, and this makes her laugh, but laughing makes her head hurt and her vision pulse black-red, and so she demands that Spock let her sit down. He does, but when she closes her eyes he picks her up again, this time bridal style, and takes her to sickbay.

The next hour is taken up with Bones griping, Spock being silent and Jim whining as she's put through a few tests and hypos. Finally the concussion is healed, and Bones gives her his unofficial stamp of approval. She won't get the real stamp until the pain in her head goes away, so she's left with Spock hovering uncertainly and the awaiting mental breakdown to think about.

It doesn't happen until Nurse Chapel walks in, oddly tentative. She always likes Christine, so Jim smiles and holds out her hand for the PADD the nurse is carrying. At the very least she can get rid of some paperwork, which is awesome, because it's kind of been broaching from her desk to her bed, and it's hard to sleep surrounded by stacks of PADDs. But then Jim takes a look at it, and her heart clings heavily to her throat.

"I'm sorry to bother you with this now, Captain, but Starfleet has to be notified that Ensigns Gephart, Marley, R'Nal, Gegil, and Hanish have…are now…" Chapel swallows, and Jim finishes quietly,

"Dead. They're dead." Jim takes the PADD and signs it. And then she remembers.

"Oh, shit. _Shit. _Are there any contacts in Ensign Gephart's file?" Chapel looks surprised, but flicks through the PADD and finally says,

"Uh, yes, there's a comm number for Earth here. Registered to Gephart's ex-wife." Jim reads the number over, then comms the bridge. The first thing she does is apologize (briskly and a little bit too cool, but she's never been good with apologizing) to Lt. Uhura, who accepts it with gracious relief. And then she asks Uhura to patch her through.

A little girl answers, with the same slow accent as Gephart. Jim's voice clogs. She can't think of any way to dampen the blow, can't really see the point of it with her head pulsing with pain, and so she just says,

"This is James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. I have a message for you, from your father." There's a pause.

"…Is something wrong? Is daddy okay?" Jim licks her lips with slow, deliberate care, tenses, and says to the dead air,

"Your father wanted me to tell you that he loves you, very much. Those were his last words. I'm sorry, but you father is dead." There's a gasp, and then the little girl starts to sob. She cuts the communication, and Jim swallows around the lump in her throat and takes the stylus from Chapel. But suddenly the words on the PADD are blurry, and her hand wobbles as she struggles to find the signature line. She chokes a little, and then suddenly Christine is wrapping her arms around her, warm and soft with a little whispered,

"It's okay, Jim. It's alright." She lets the burning in her eyes spill over, practically hurls the PADD to the ground, and latches onto Christine as the floodgate opens, and pure hurt washes out to the view of two of her senior officers, poor Christine, and a recovering lieutenant who gawks until Bones glares at her.

Finally, the tears slow, then end, and Jim pulls back, sighs at the ceiling and swipes at her face. Christine gives her a warm smile, pats her thigh, and hands her the PADD again before turning away to continue her duties. Jim makes a mental note about commendations, suppresses a hiccup, and turns to Spock.

"I need to, ah…" There was something niggling at the back of her head, but she couldn't quite remember what it was. Spock nodded, eyes hot and emphatic; he understood. Suddenly Bones big, warm hand was on her shoulder, and his lips pressed against her temple.

"It's okay, Jim. We'll handle it. You just rest." For once she's too tired to argue, and she curls up in the biobed under the watchful eyes of the two men she loves the most.

* * *

AN: This was spurred on by my burning desire to see more fem!Kirks, fem!Spocks, and fem!Bones. I love genderbenders, and there aren't enough of them. I apologize for the angsty-ness of this, but everyone likes angst every once and a while, right? And I know Kirk is really ditzy and OOC there for a moment. Bear with me. I don't feel like re-writing it.


	2. McCoy

The transporter room beeped rhythmically, the whine of the machine and the blaze of light dazzling bystanders as a form appeared on the pad. Mr. Spock stood straight and pale, and Doctor Lenore McCoy hurried forward to greet him with her medical tricorder.

All readings come back as baseline Vulcan normal, and McCoy straightens, her face curiously blank. Spock feels a sudden tug of curiosity; the doctor is almost Vulcan-like in her sudden poise, and he frowns, very slightly.

"Well, Mr. Spock, how do you feel?" He arches a brow, hands locked at the small of his back.

"I am fine, doctor." Her mouth twitches into a firm line, her jaw locked, and he can feel the anger, hidden before, now surging up through her.

"Good, you cold son of a bitch," she growls, and hauls back and slaps him across the face.

The flat smack of flesh on flesh resounds through the suddenly silent room, along with nearly soundless gasps of shock. Spock stays completely still, his head still whipped to the side from the force of the blow. Already a green handprint is rising on his cheek, each fingertip visible. Lenore moves to hit him again, but suddenly Jim bursts in, and he grabs her by the waist and hauls her back, even as she kicks and snarls.

"You heartless bastard! You let those Klingons butcher those children and you don't even give a shit! You're the most pathetic excuse for a man I've ever seen!" Red-faced and writhing, she pulled at Jim's hands, wordless shrieks of rage echoing around the silent room. Even with his superior size and strength, Jim is panting as he struggles to restrain her. Finally she goes slack, and Jim cautiously releases her.

"Doctor McCoy, you are relieved of duty until further notice. You are also confined to quarters. Do I make myself clear?" Struggling for breath, McCoy nods, her hair stuck to her face. She straightens slowly, and Jim takes her by the elbow to escort her out. Just before she leaves, though, she turns and rears her head back, spitting at Spock's feet with hatred burning in her hazel eyes.

An air of solid unnerve suffused the room as Spock still didn't move, the handprint now clear on his cheek. Even his eyes are utterly still, and it isn't until the transporter technician asks him to vacate the pad that he snaps out of it. With sharp efficiency, he walks out of the room and makes his way to the turbo lift. Jim catches up with him just before the doors close.

"Damn, she got you good, didn't she?" he asks, peering at the livid mark. Spock does not reply. Jim fidgets, sighs, and slumps against the turbo lift wall, hitting the stop button. Spock's eyes slide over him, but it's apparent that he's thinking hard, not really taking anything in.

"She only said that shit because she's freaking out, I hope you know. Len's a doctor, Spock. She can't bear the thought that we couldn't do anything for those kids, and you're her easiest outlet right now. She'll calm down soon, and then you can have awesome makeup sex." His tone is a little bit hopeless, a little bit joking, and a little bit desperate. Spock closes his eyes, a brief moment of vulnerability. When he opens them again, Jim hisses quietly in despair.

"That does not mean she is any less correct, Captain." Spock reaches over and hits the button again. Jim straightens, but it's apparent from his expression that he's worried about his friend.

But then they're in the whiteness of the bridge, and concerns fall away. They have a job to do.

Lenore is pacing, ripping none-too-gently at her hair and cursing to her self as tears fall. She's been penting up her frustration for weeks now, and she's in a numb sort of disbelief at how things have panned out. She completely understands Spock's position, the horror he must be concealing, but she's so _angry._

It's too hot in her quarters, so she strips off her uniform in sharp, concise movements. There are two messages waiting for her on her communications channel, so she opens them and a bottle of brandy, hoping to smother the anger with booze.

The first message is from her cousin, Gerald. She opens it with a bit of dread- Gerald was always a little creepy. But the message is a sorrowful, blunt blow to the heart. Her mother has died of cystic fibrosis. The funeral is being held that day, as a matter of fact, and the knowledge settles over her shoulders with heavy, cloying weight.

She opens the next message much more cautiously, taking a large swig of brandy before she plays it. It's a voice recording, from Joe, her ex-husband. He says that Joanna doesn't want to ship out to Starbase 2, even though that will be the closest to Earth Lenore will be within the next three years because of the mission. They were supposed to spend Christmas together, and she was finally going to introduce Spock to her daughter. Joe doesn't give an explanation for the sudden change, and she's sorely tempted to call him up with fury and liquor on her breath, demanding a reason. Instead she lets the anger coil tight, next to the sorrow and pain, and starts downing brandy with true purpose.

When Spock hesitantly enters Lenore's quarters that evening, she throws a glass at the wall (although he's fairly sure she was aiming at his head) and it shatters. She's sprawled in a chair in her underwear, her short hair mussed and her lip wobbling angrily as she spouts broken, slurred jibes at him. He doesn't listen to them, only strides forward and falls to his knees in front of her, gathering her hands in his and saying starkly,

"I am sorry." She pauses.

"What?"

"I apologize with deepest sincerity for my choices. For everything I have ever done to cause you sorrow or pain. For-" Lenore managed to wring her hands from Spock's grip and took his face in them, noting the wide green bruise souring his cheek.

"Stop it. Dammit, I'm too drunk for this shit. I don't blame you. I just…" She sighs.

"My daughter hates me. My mother just died. There's a case of some kind of venereal disease spreading through the ship and I don't know how to stop it, and I have more paperwork than I care to think about. And then there was today. If anyone should apologize, it should be me." Spock stared up at her for a long moment. Then he turned, very slightly, and kissed her palm, climbing quickly to his feet.

"Come to bed," he asks, and with a slow and boozy grin, she does.

What she doesn't expect is for Spock to tuck her under the covers, remove all alcohol from the vicinity, and settle onto the side of the bed with a PADD, intent on boring her to death.

"When you asked me to come to bed, I thought you meant we were going to have sex," she complains to the ceiling, struggling restlessly out from under the blankets. Without looking up from his PADD, Spock catches her flailing limbs and tucks them neatly back under the blanket. She wrenches them back out peevishly and takes off her bra, too, feeling petty and swamped to the gills.

"You could be an excellent nurse, you know," she muttered as Spock collected her bra from the floor and put it away. He glanced at her for maybe a half of a second longer than he usually would have, then went back to his PADD.

"I was going to introduce you to Joanna, you know. But now she doesn't want to see me. Even though it'll be Christmas time and I won't be able to see her for another three years. Damn this ship and it's fucking mission. You know what, damn Starfleet!" Spock gave her a sharp look at that.

"Starfleet is your home, as you have stated on many occasions." She smiled, weary and drained.

"Nope. Home is you and Joanna, and maybe Jim, fishing on a sweltering day in Georgia. With lemonade. And peach cobbler." She stretches, then finally accepts the covers as sleep starts to overwhelm her.

"You will have your home, Lenore. I promise," Spock whispers to the air, then kisses her cheek, and she falls fast asleep.

* * *

AN: So yeah, there's McCoy. It's kind of random. Oh well. Thank you for the reviews! And just to make it clear, each chapter only has one genderbended character in it.


	3. Spock

Spock wakes up to the fading sounds of screaming and tumbling stone. She sighs in the quiet of her room and lets the vivid dream be replaced by the quiet sounds of a chronometer ticking from Jim's room, the sonic shower that he's using at the moment, his slightly muffled and off-key singing.

Every morning she washes away Vulcan's death with Jim's slight, daily noises, and every morning she falls a little more in love with him.

She sidles out of bed and moves to the small alter set in the corner. She lights the incense as she does every morning, and bows her head to the picture of her mother. As she begins to settle into a meditative pose, her computer beeps twice. A communication.

It's from her father, yet another view on his logical argument of why she should help build the colony, take a mate, and raise some strapping Vulcan children. She reads it, but does not reply. Jim finishes his sonic and raps on her door to the fresher- it's the system they have, as they are of the opposite sex but must share a bathroom, being captain and first officer. She has twenty minutes before Alpha shift begins, and so she sheds her night clothes and wraps a towel around herself as she enters the fresher.

It's still warm from Jim's sonic, and his scent clings faintly to every surface. It's harder to ignore the throb in her chest when traces of him are everywhere, so she pulls all of her long hair over one shoulder and starts to braid it into a loose plait, intent on the task of her fingers and not the smudges on the mirror or his razor, sitting on the sink counter with blonde stubble still caught in the blades.

Jim's door opens suddenly, and she freezes, eyes wide. He stares, obviously surprised. He's in only his uniform pants, which are unbuttoned and slung low on his hips- she feels herself flush, despite how she wills her body not to.

"Uh," he stammers, his eyes sweeping quickly down her body and then back up to her face. It's a struggle now to keep her expression neutral, or her eyes above his collarbone.

"Whoops. Sorry." He ducks out, the door sliding shut behind him. She deliberately finishes her plait and gets into the sonic, not taking off her towel until the transparent screen is shut. She turns on the shower and closes her eyes.

It's going to be a long morning.

Uhura is in the officer's mess, thank goodness, and she immediately joins her. The beautiful young woman's face instantly morphs from bland morning exhaustion to worry.

"You alright? You have that look on your face." She adjusts her braid- she decided to wear it in that style today, as it's convenient- and doesn't reply.

"Oh, sheesh, what happened? Did your father-"

"Yes," she interrupts, briskly breaking into her breakfast. Uhura frowns.

"That man needs to learn to mind his own business."

"The captain walked in on me in the fresher this morning," she blurts, taking a sip of tea. She does not look up as Uhura makes a strangled little noise of outrage and curses impressively in a mish-mosh of languages.

"While I agree that Jim's sexual habits are dubious when concerning small mammals, he did not make any advances on me," she murmurs, secretly amused. Uhura's linguistic skills always manage to cheer her.

"So spill! Did he get a look at anything or say something I'm going to have to hurt him for?" And here she felt her despair rise up.

"No." Uhura sipped her coffee, an eyebrow raised.

"Why do you sound disappointed? I mean, Jim's a pig. Your relationship would be totally awkward if he was hitting on you all the time." She sighed, suddenly frustrated. Her morning meal forgotten, she folded her napkin, aware that she should quit fidgeting but unable to stop herself.

"Yes, you're right. What sort of command team would we be if…" and she trails off, now visibly frowning. Uhura looks startled. She reaches out and lays a hand on Spock's arm, and even through the cloth she can feel the slight buzz of _concern/sister/love/worry_ of Uhura's thoughts. She attempts to sober herself.

"Nyota, it is nothing. I did not meditate this morning, and I will be-" Uhura's staring at her intently, that same determined, raw look to _fix_ her that reminds her of turbo lifts and black holes, both in space and in her heart.

"Spock." She sighs, looks away. Uhura doesn't press her as she gathers the words.

"The captain has, on every occasion available, made sexual advances at females. Excepting me. I do not wish to be the exception." Uhura's face is completely slack with shock as she rises to her feet.

"It is 06:53. I suggest you hurry or you will be late for Alpha shift," she says succinctly, and leaves. And if there is a very small frown on her face, well, no one notices.

Her shift is nothing but incident after incident. There is an accident in the Science labs, and an extensive experiment is lost. She fields weepy, touchy Science officers for most of the morning, and then Dr. McCoy needs her assistance in Medbay.

"Jim told me about this morning," is the first thing he says to her, smirking. She gives him her best deadpan look.

"I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, Doctor. You will have to be more specific." And instantly, they're at each other's throats as they struggle to figure out the situation on Psi 2000.

Finally she enters the bridge, feeling worn and strangely volatile. Her emotions have become gradually harder to control all morning, and her work is starting to pile up, just slightly. When she enters the bridge, Kirk glances at her, not quite meeting her eyes before he looks away again.

For reasons she can't explain, this is the single most irritating thing she's ever seen. Her captain, the man she is in love with, is a coward. He can't even face her after his inaction this morning? Before she can even think of reigning herself in she storms in front of his chair and slaps her hands on both armrests, leaning into his face.

"What is wrong with you?" she demands, glaring at him, nearly snarling. He leans back, clearly startled.

"Spock?"

"Am I hideous to you? Is that it? You cannot bring yourself low enough to look at a half-breed?" It is utterly silent as slowly her blood cools, and she stands slowly, clasping her hands behind her.

"I apologize, Captain," she murmurs, her voice hoarse. She wasn't aware that she was screaming until that moment, "I believe I have become ill. With your permission-" He nods mutely, and she strides as quickly as she can to the turbo lift without running. But then Kirk slips in beside her, and she stiffens as he calls out, "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

It is utterly still in the turbo lift. She shifts so that her hair falls between them, and he cannot see how green her face is. As she has been fearing for the past thirty seven point four seconds, he reaches over and hits the stop button.

"Spock, if this is about this morning, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to walk in on you." She whirls, flashes of Vulcan history, green blood splattered on red sands, coming to mind as her blood boils.

"This is about so much more, Jim. It is about how you do not even see me as a woman. I am nothing to you but a tool, James Kirk, and I hate you for it." Jim is dumbfounded, jaw slack as she swipes at her eyes furiously, her breath heavy. Normally she's freezing on the ship, but now she's sweltering, almost feverish, and she forces her internal temperature lower to compensate.

His hands on her shoulders startles her, and she backs against the turbo lift wall. Jim is suddenly in front of her, cornering her, and his eyes are so unbearably blue, like Earth's skies.

"Spock. Don't ever think that, please. That's not how I feel about you." He's so close that her knee bumps his, and his left hand slips up to caress the side of her neck. _Lust/desire/thrill/concern/horror/fear/__**love **_pulses through his hands, and she can't keep the shivers out of her frame, warmth coursing through her body.

"Captain, this isn't appropriate," she whispered, and he smirked that infuriating and beautiful, confident smile.

"Well, which is it?" he asked, his voice hushed. His hand on her shoulder slid down her back to curl around her waist, bringing their bodies closer. She has a moment of absolute virgin fear as he leans closer, intimately close. All she ever did with Uhura will not count in this affair, she's sure, and she wonders irrationally if maybe a life of Vulcan priestess hood wasn't such a bad option after all.

"Do you want me to be appropriate?" Jim murmured, eyes bright as he leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth, "Or do you want me to treat you as a woman? You ask for two different things, Spock."

Considering the laughter in his face and the darkly intimate course of his thoughts, Spock allowed her arms to slowly wrap around his neck, a thrilling buzz from his thoughts coming from every point they touched.

"I want you to treat me as a woman, Jim." And he kissed her. It wasn't disgusting, as she'd always thought kissing a man would be like, but hot and clashing as they both fought for dominance. Never one to do things halfway, she chanced a grope at him to see if she could gain the upper hand, and he retaliated with a laugh into her mouth as his hand slid up to her breast.

A few minutes later, the turbo lift came to a halt. The doors opened, and Leonard McCoy, about to go look for an apparently sick Spock, was treated to one of the most traumatizing images of his life.

Jim had Spock pressed against the turbo lift wall, one of his hands up her shirt and the other struggling with the clasp of her pants. He had her thumb in his mouth, and she had her head thrown back, panting softly as her other hand explored under his shirt, tense against his back. Her leg was caught up around his waist, the other precariously balanced- and then she saw him, and she gasped very quietly, her face flushed green and hair tangled into her wide brown eyes.

With a sickening pop, Jim let go of her thumb and looked around, smiling broadly at Bones.

"Heya, Bones. Like what you see?" The good doctor looked like he was going to be sick.

At the end of it all, they managed to sort out why everyone was suddenly acting drunk, and McCoy and Spock managed to make up a cure, though Jim's sudden explosive rage and Spock's depression hampered them a bit.

And when they were all able to fasten their calm back into place, Spock realized that Jim had simply been reacting to her, and that no emotion was behind his apparent desire. Sure, she'd felt love in his thoughts, but she hadn't gotten a close look at the emotion. There was no way to tell if anything was real.

He approached her as she got ready for bed that night, and she steeled herself in the doorway.

"Captain, I apologize. My actions in the turbo lift were…emotional. I will not allow the altercation to interpose on our work." He gawked at her, in sweatpants and a heavy t-shirt, his feet bare.

"Spock. Shut the hell up for once and listen, please?" She paused with her mouth open and then snapped it shut, waiting for him to speak. He took his time.

"Look. I've been ignoring my own feelings for you because I thought they'd be unwelcome. It would make everything complicated, and it just seemed like too much after…after Vulcan." He swallowed. She focused on the flutter of his throat in order to resist the urge to swallow herself.

"But in the turbo lift…I just got the vibe that…maybe my feelings weren't completely unrequited." He glanced up at her.

"…You…would be correct in that assumption, Jim." He shot up straight, leaning forward with a grin on his face.

"Seriously?" Unable to voice her sarcastic comment, she simply raised a brow. His grin got wider.

"That's awesome. Because I really, really love you, Spock." And he leaned forward far enough to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. She blushed like a schoolgirl as he pulled away and returned to his own quarters, and they both went to bed with smiles on their faces.

Spock's dreams were pleasant, full of dark-kissed smiles and golden lashes catching the light. And for once, she felt at peace.

* * *

AN: Well. This chapter is kind of fucked up. It's sort of a remix on "The Naked Time." And just to make it clear- though it's kind of pointless at this time- these chapters are all seperate from each other.

Love to Harm Marie, who has reviewed every chapter. Thanks!


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